The devil inside
by marypussycat79
Summary: Holmes is back and thinks Watson will join him as before he nearly died at the waterfall. But things are changed and the two friends are separated by an evil enemy. When Watson comes to Holmes for help, Holmes must face a dangerous enemy from their past... COMPLETE!
1. Reunion and confession

**The devil inside (chapter 1)**

Holmes was interrupted in his early morning smoking habits by a familiar knock at the door. For a moment, he thought about his Boswell and the way he had disappeared from his life. He knew he himself was to blame for it, because he had left the poor man to grief for him and when the doctor was finally recovering from the illness he had experienced for many months, he dared to come to his house to visit him. Watson almost fainted. Holmes understood his first reaction, but he had always thought that after he had become accustomed to his rebirth, he would had joined him like before. That never happened. Watson had been polite with Holmes but there was something strange in his behaviour: the affection, on Watson's side, that had bound them was gone; there was no life in his beautiful blue eyes, that had stared icily the detective and his body had remained tense, as if Holmes' sudden appearance had disturbed the doctor. After the usual pleasantries, the conversation had died and the room was filled with an ashamed, cold silence. When Mary entered the room, as soon as she spotted Holmes sitting in a chair in front of her husband, her face lost all color and she had to hold on to the doorframe in order not to fall. Watson was at her side immediately and suggested Holmes it was time for him to leave their house. Holmes, too shocked by the harsh tone of his friend's voice, did as he was told. That was the last time he saw his doctor. He had hoped for some times to receive a visit from Watson but he never came to Baker Street.

The man that entered the sitting room that morning was only a distant shadow of his friend. Too thin, his coat was completely soaked from the hard London's rain sticking to his frame, making him appear even smaller; unshaven and pale, Holmes barely recognized him. The doctor managed a sad smile to him before collapsing in the armchair near the fireplace. Holmes quickly recovered from the sudden pain he felt in his chest at the miserable sight of his friend and hurried at his side, noticing with some relief that he was still conscious but extremely weak. After helping him out of his coat, he wrapped him in a comforter and poured him a generous glass of brandy. Watson did not speak a word. He stared at the fire with a confused look and thanked him. It seemed the liquor gave the poor doctor some color and some strength, but he was completely lost in his own thoughts. The detective had never seen him in such a state and he was wondering what could had possibly happened. He tried his best to detect something from his dress but he was himself too shaken up to think rationally. He ordered Mrs. Hudson to make some tea but went personally in the landlady's room to retrieve the tray, he did not want her to see Watson, not now at least. The miserable man had not moved from his position in front of the fire and Holmes' anxiety was growing. He had so many questions to ask him but he wasn't sure he was in any condition to answer him. Considering he had lost weight, he coaxed him to have some tea but he did not succeed in making him eat something the lady had prepared: that was really strange, Watson's appetite was legendary.

"Watson, can you look at me, please?" he finally asked him, noticing his voice was unsteady.

When the doctor moved his gaze from the fire to him, he considered it a small victory. Watson was feeling confused, guilty, relieved and happy at the same time. He had dreamed to be back in his old apartment more than once and now that was real he was feeling just overwhelmed. Holmes' concern was too much to handle and he was on the verge of tears. But he was determined not to cry and he did not. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

"I made a mistake, Holmes!" he paused and closed his eyes. "I have made the worst mistake in my life! I don't want to put you in danger, she will find me and she is going to take revenge on you too. I have to leave, find a safe house, but thank you for the brandy, I really needed it." _Stop me, Holmes, please say you won't let me go, help me, I can't do this alone! _

As if the detective had read his mind, he gently but firmly put his hands on Watson's shoulders, forcing him to sit again, not wanting him to leave. He was glad the doctor had finally talked to him – for the first time since he came back – but his instinct was screaming inside him that something was very wrong with his friend and this time he wouldn't had left him alone.

"Who is she, Watson?" he asked gently.

Watson gave him an anguished look and sighed before murmuring the name: "Mary!"

Holmes could not believe his ears. What could had possibly Mary done to his friend? Despite he did not like her, he had never considered her more than a innocent woman whose only purpose in life was to get married and to have children from her husband. So conventional, so boring. But Watson loved her. And now they were at a point that he had to consider the facts from another perspective. He had evidently misjudged her. Maybe his friend was just confused, maybe he was ill and he was simply delirious. But a voice in the back of his head told him they were going to face a terrible enemy.

"Watson, are you sure? Is Mary responsible for..." he extended his arms and looked at him in the eyes, pausing in his speech, before finishing his sentence "this?"

"She is dangerous, Holmes! I have been a fool! You had tried to warn me but I didn't listen to you. I understand if you will not help me, after what I did! When you came to us, in our home, I was so angry with you… and then when you leave, Mary told me I should not forgive you and I let her taking you away from me. I am so sorry!" he would had told many other things but he felt he could not continue, his whole body trembling from the cold.

Holmes understood his friend was going into shock. He helped him to stand up and guided him to his room, where he slept the entire morning in his bed. Before succumbing to sleep, the detective could hear his friend murmuring words that made him shiver.

"She tried to kill me!"

Holmes never left his side, determined to keep him safe and making plans for the future: they had encountered a dangerous enemy on their road, he could sense it and they were going to fight together. He still needed many information from the doctor, and when he would had a clear picture of the situation, they were going to decide the best way to move. For now, he simply watched his friend finally sleeping peacefully.

**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, all I'm asking is to review... that makes me really happy!**

**I hope to update very soon with a second chapter... **


	2. Memories

**The devil inside (chapter 2)**

Watson knew they did not have time to waste but he was so infernally weak that he fell asleep the moment Holmes made him comfortable in his bed: if the detective would not had been so caring, maybe he would have found the strength to remain conscious and explain his friend the great danger in which he put them both by escaping his wife. Maybe the old Watson could have done it. But he was not the same man Holmes had left behind him.

* * *

Since the detective's presumed death, Mary had started to change but he was too shocked to notice it, until it was too late: the doctor had always known his wife did not like his friend but he had never imagined her hate was so strong. He had been sick for a while, after the funeral service, and for once he had the "occasion" to taste Holmes' state of mind, particularly the melancholy that fell upon him when he was not busy with a case and he spent his days smoking in his room for days, wearing the same clothes, refusing food and sleep; Watson had always had a hard time dealing with him when he was in these dark moods, nothing seemed to interest him and he had to force him to even eat. He felt exactly that way for some weeks, after the funeral, but Mary helped him to not fall in a depression that could cost him his life and his profession; of course, she blamed Holmes for his husband's suffering and wished they had never met.

If, before their marriage, she had tried to hide her "bad" feelings for the detective, after his death she did not bother to lie anymore and she often slur him in Watson's presence with her parents and friends, unaware of her husband's state of mind: in fact, Watson felt his heart ache every time she talked bad about his best friend, the man who had helped him when he came back to London offering him to share the apartment and then involving him in his investigations. With Holmes, the doctor had the opportunity to start a new life. How could Mary do not understand their bond? They were more than friends, they were room-mates, they were colleagues in catching criminals, they needed each other every day; despite their characters were opposite for many aspects, they had established a deep relationship and they were considered a perfect duo for their particular chemistry. But things had changed after his marriage, and while Holmes was considered dead, the doctor decided it was time for him to leave his friend behind, to go on and to accept that part of his life was finished. With each passing day, the thought of Holmes had decreased in intensity.

After a while he felt psychologically better and he was ready to start a new phase of his life, becoming a family man devoted to his wife, but physically he still wasn't feeling well: despite the motherly care of Mary and the huge meals she personally cooked for him, he had continued to lose weight. He had resumed his practice in his office, despite the worries of his wife, and he someway went on with his life. Until the day when Holmes reappeared. Since then, there was something Watson wished to do more than anything: to come back to Baker Street to meet his friend, because they never had the occasion to talk about what had happened. When Holmes went to him for the first time, he was too shocked to talk and, plus, Mary reacted so badly seeing the presumed dead man alive in their sitting room that he had to urge him to leave. But he had wished to see him again. That never happened. The doctor was consumed by Holmes' thought sitting alone in their old apartment, mad at him. He tried to talk to Mary more than once about it, but the argument only happened to make her angry, so he let the matter drop and did not touch the argument with her anymore. But Mary was not easy to fool. Even if he did not tell her, she knew what her husband was thinking and what he wanted. Watson was a loyal man and he would had never done anything to displease his wife, so he fought his own feeling and promised her not to come back to Holmes if that was what she wanted. It hurt, but he maintained his promise.

* * *

After four months since that day, the doctor fell ill again: this time Mary called another doctor to check on her husband and it was determined he was not able to work, at least for some months: he felt weak, light headed, sick. The strange "flu" that confined him in bed lasted several weeks and Mary personally made sure he did not receive any visitors (because he had to regain his strength and he did not need to be bothered by anyone except her and the doctor, who came regularly every week), she sometimes let him read him a newspaper but not too often, for the same reasons she gave him about the visitors; Watson, on his side, had lost his legendary appetite and spent most of his days sleeping like a dead and when he was awake he was often confused and his mind so cloudy that he did not even know what day it was. Being a doctor, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew something was very strange with him and that his illness was not a flu like Mary continued to repeat him. One time he felt a little more lucid to ask his wife to see another doctor, she reassured him with caring words but insisted it was not wise to do that now that the cure was finally working. In that occasion, Watson caught a glimpse of fear in his wife's expression and he wondered why, when she left the room, she locked the door. Something was definitely going on. He tried to get up but found out his shaky legs could not support him. So he waited for the hours to pass, deciding the best way to find out what was happening in his home without making his wife suspect of him.

The following day, he pretended to be sick and sleepy and refused the meal Mary had prepared: he must had been convincing because she did not insisted and left him alone for all the afternoon. Watson, who was feeling a lot better, got up and explored his room in silence but found nothing strange, except for the fact that the door was still locked and the clock was gone from the wall. At the end of his investigations, he felt very tired and resumed his position under the covers and immediately fell asleep; when his wife re-entered the room with his supper, she found him unconscious. Satisfied by the pale complexion and the tired aspect of her sleeping husband, she left him with the supper untouched. The following day Watson could not avoid to be feed by his wife – the lack of food of the previous day had made him even weaker – but this time she did not lock the door behind her when she left: that gave the doctor the opportunity to expand his investigations to the other rooms of the floor. Moving carefully, he searched for something out of order but found nothing, until he saw a light trace of a white substance on the small table with drawer near the door of his room, where his wife used to put fresh flowers. The flowers were gone and now the small drawer was full of thin little bottles filled with mysterious substances: his first thought was that his wife had put the medicines the doctor had gave him close at hand, but then he notice that no one of that bottles had a label on it. That was strange. Then, suddenly, he heard Mary's voice coming from the sitting room: the room was half closed and from his position he could not see clearly the inside; what surprised him most was to hear another man's voice responding to his wife's questions. An educated voice, but sharp and cruel. The man was speaking too low and Watson did not understand his words. But Mary seemed anxious, almost hysterical. They talked for some minutes and suddenly Mary left the room. Watson had barely time to come back in his room, where he spent the rest of the afternoon wondering about the mysterious man in his sitting room. He had noticed also that, despite the tiredness, today he was less confused and more alert: that fact and considering the few evidences he found in his home, he was sure he had understood everything, that Mary was giving him some drug in his meal, that she wanted him to be weak and sick so to control him and that the man who had frequently come to see him during the last weeks was not a doctor, but Mary's partner in crime; that his wife was afraid of the man he heard talking with her in the sitting room downstairs and that probably Mary was only following his orders. That surely lightened her position. However, Watson could not stay in that house any more time than it was necessary. He had to escape. But then where to go? Surely the first place where they would have searched was Holmes' apartment, he had to find another one. He thought of Mycroft's mansion, but again that was a predictable move. He had always been an ordinary man, with a simple schedule, that made the escape more difficult. At the end, considering his physical state was not so good, he thought that if he had been able to go out unnoticed of his home, well that would had been a miracle. But he was determined not to let them kill him.

He had to regain some strength before trying his plan, so he pretended to be very sick when Mary was with him and ate very little, because he knew they were giving him something to subdue him and to make him sleepy. It took some days but finally the drug he had been given lost effect on his mind and body and he felt someway rested and better. One day, he could not say when because he had lost the conception of time, he succeeded in his purpose. It was easier done than said, in an instant he was outside the house on the pavement, looking anxiously around him, deciding where to go. Not surely to Holmes, nor to Mycroft, he decided to stay on the street, among other people. It all went well until night came and it started to rain, hard; Watson was exhausted, he had consumed his last energies to stay on full alert all day and now, soaked and hungry, his resolution started to fade. But he held on, until he understood that he had no other choice but to ask Holmes' help, otherwise Mary and his partner would had won, while he wanted to know why she had turned in the devil woman she had known during the past months.

**To be continued in chapter 3...**

**Reviews are as always appreciated and makes me happy...**


	3. Brilliant escape

**The devil inside (chapter 3)**

Holmes let the doctor sleep all morning, quietly waiting for him to wake up. He had had plenty of time to observe his friend and was shocked to see how thin he was and how fragile he seemed. He had always been fond of Watson and had always liked his tanned skin, his broad chest and his general healthy aspect.

When Watson began to stir, the detective came closer to the bed and smiled warmly at his friend's confused face.

"What… Holmes, what happened?" he murmured drowsily.

"It seems you escaped your own home yesterday and you came to me, finally. How are you feeling old boy?"

The doctor glanced around the room and sighed, looking satisfied and relaxed, the pained and tired expression momentarily gone from his striking features and his voice soft and calm.

"I thought I would had never seen this place again!" then, as if he had suddenly remembered something painful, his tone and his expression changed. "I am so sorry, Holmes! I would had liked to come to visit you but Mary… we argued about you many times. She hates you. She would had preferred you to be dead. She is so insane! I tried to talk to her, to make her understand how I felt about you… but at the end I had to promise her to not search you anymore. I thought once I had accomplished her desire she would had been satisfied. But I was wrong! I don't understand what she wants. I think she is following someone's orders; I heard her speak to a man in our sitting room but…"

"Watson, breathe!" the detective ordered firmly interrupting his monologue and pushing his friend back against the pillows. "You can tell me everything after you put something in your stomach. I'll go call Mrs. Hudson, you stay here and rest."

The doctor opened his mouth to protest but the look Holmes gave him silenced him and he did as he suggesed, realizing that he was feeling very tired and hungry. He patiently waited for the detective to return, allowing his eyes to close and enjoying the warmth of the room. The bed was soft and the place was so familiar that, for an instant, he felt safe and relaxed before recalling that his wife was probably searching for him and they would had to leave Baker Street soon. After a few minutes, Holmes entered the room with a large tray full of his favorite meals; Watson devoured the roast beef with potatoes but preferred not to try the rest, although it was very inviting, but his stomach was still a little queasy and he did not want to be sick. For once, he did not notice that Holmes had not touched his plate.

When he was finished, the detective put the tray aside and asked the doctor to explain him what had happened since his return to London after Reichenbach Falls. Watson answered every questions in a calm, controlled tone, as if he was speaking of someone else than himself; he lost control on his emotions only once. Holmes, despite his nature, put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder and hushed him tenderly; that simple act gave the miserable man the strength to continue and tell Holmes what he wanted to know. At the end, he felt someway relieved because he had finally spoken with someone about his ordeal; plus, Holmes' fame helped him to believe that the great detective would had surely found the "solution" to his situation.

Holmes, from his perspective, was already making plans. He knew they were not safe in his apartment. All considering, they probably were already watched and Mary – or the man whom she talked to – already knew about his involving in Watson's escape.

He mentally made a list of things to do:

1-Send a boy to Mycroft's mansion to ask his help

2-Move in the old mansion of Lord Cathenam, an old palace now abandoned. The owner, Lord Cathenam, spent a lot of money to modernize it following the trend of the time, about 60 years ago. It was his jewel and he loved to invite friends for the week end to make them admire the beautiful park that encircled the palace and the richness of the interiors. The place had been very comfortable in its glory days but when the old lord died his son moved in a modern house closer to the city centre. The relationship between the two men had always been difficult; as it happens in this times, what the Lord had gained with hard work the young man considered obvious and granted. He used to spent his time wasting money with women and drinking good wine, if not sleeping and hanging around with rattle-brained friends. At some point, the Lord had menaced to leave his son without his inheritance if he would not have changed his life style; of course, the warning had the only effect of to accentuate his bad habits. But Edward Cathenam could not maintain his words because he suddenly died at the age of 65 years because of a heart attack. So the palace was abandoned and it soon started to deteriorate: where once there were neat trees, lawns and avenues now there was a forest and the palace itself became the temporary refuge for homeless and Holmes' irregulars.

3-Find out who the man in Watson's sitting room was and what his relationship with Mary was.

Emerging from his thoughts, Holmes noticed that his friend was falling asleep.

"Watson, I wish I could let you sleep all day but we have to leave Baker Street now!"

"Of course. Where are we going?"

"To a safe house. But we have to be careful, I'm sure someone is watching us so we are going to put on a little act."

"What do you mean Holmes? Are you planning to go out in disguise? I left my home in my bedclothes only, I'm afraid I have nothing to put on in order to appear normal among people in the streets!" the doctor stated, embarrassed at his own weakness and awkwardness, flushing slightly.

"I noticed." Holmes replied gently. "Take these. They should fit you just fine!" and he handed him a grey suit, very warm, with a white shirt, socks and shoes. At last, the detective gave him also a very dirty coat that seemed more a monk's frock than a proper coat. Holmes himself put on a similar item.

"Why are we going out in these, Holmes?" the doctor asked critically.

The detective smiled warmly to him and, to Watson's surprise, put his arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace sighing contentedly.

"My dear fellow, I am glad you are back. I missed you so very much!"

The doctor, shocked by the smaller man's behaviour, stayed perfectly still until he felt him relax and let him go. Both men were afraid to make the wrong move; they knew perfectly well that their relationship was deeper than just friendship but they would had never admitted it. So, after a moment, Holmes resumed his professional cold manner.

"There will be a little accident on the street, outside our door, in a little while. We are going to wait downstairs but we won't go out until I give you the signal. When we are out, follow me with your head down whatever happens. Do not help anyone on the street, do not talk to anyone; just follow me. Did you understand?"

"I don't understand, Holmes, but I'll do it. I'm sure you will not explain your plan to me so…" the doctor replied tiredly.

"Trust me, Watson. Now, let's get ready!"

Holmes checked that Watson was warm enough and, satisfied, guided him downstairs where they waited for about fifteen minutes. Suddenly there was a huge crash in the street and they heard many voices shouting all together.

"It's time to go, Watson! Head down and follow me! We will be out of here and in a safe house in no time!" he murmured.

Watson did as instructed and he found himself in the back of a wagon, pressed amongst sacks of potatoes. Holmes was at his side. They could not see anything because a row curtain had been thrown upon them and they were not completely hidden. He felt the wagon move and the people's shouting started to fade; the detective stood quietly at his side. Time passed very slowly and when the noises of the city started to fade too the doctor began to feel nervous; but the comforting hand of Holmes on his arm, silently communicating him safety and calm, helped him to relax.

About three quarters of an hour later, the wagon stopped and Holmes helped Watson out of their hiding place, encouraging him to enter an old palace where a half dozen young boys were waiting for them. They were watching the two men with bright eyes.

"Holmes, where are we?"

"We are in Lord Cathenam palace, now refuge for our young friends here. It's a safe house, we can stay here for a while until our next move."

"Are you sure nobody followed us? What if Mary knows we are here? I cannot let you put these young boys in danger because of me." the doctor replied firmly.

"Watson, don't worry about that. The two men that were watching us do not know we are not in baker Street anymore yet. We gained a little time to make a plan and rest."

"Are you telling me that the accident was not a real accident?"

Holmes smiled at his friend, who was now displaying a confused expression.

"My dear fellow, didn't I tell you that we were going to put on a little act?" he asked in amusement.

Watson, who had finally understood, did not know what to say. Holmes had asked his boys to create a false accident on the street so to distract the two men that were watching them; during the shouting and the confusion, they had exited the house and quickly reached the wagon that took them away. Watson thought it was a great plan. Simple but efficient.

"Well done, Holmes!" he simply declared.

"I'm afraid, my dear fellow, our adventure is only at the beginning!"

**To be continued in chapter 4...**

**Don't make me repeat myself again... I love all of your reviews so please don't be shy to write down what you think… thank you!**

**SPECIAL THANKS TO _HockeyGirl871_! I hope I have improved my writing style following your grammar – syntax advices! ;-)**


	4. Entrust

**The devil inside (chapter 4)**

Once inside the palace, Holmes felt much better; he could now finally think about a way to discover the identity of his enemy, there was no doubt that Watson had been picked on because of him. While they were in Baker Street, Holmes had been worried about him and his safety; keeping him alive had been his only priority.

* * *

Watson, despite his miserable attempt to appear calm, was actually a nervous wreck. He did not fully believe Holmes' words; he was sure they still were in danger and he was expecting his Mary to enter the main door of the palace one minute or another. He managed to remain on his feet, swaying only slightly but refusing any help from the boys; with wide eyes he probed the room for any signs of his wife, convulsively opening and closing his fists. The only sounds in the room were Holmes' pacing on the dirty floor and their breath.

Suddenly he felt a light prick on his right arm; surprised, he turned his head to see Holmes close to him with an empty syringe in his left hand. Watson felt very weak and if not for the detective's supporting arms, he would had fallen to the ground. He was actually speaking to him, his mouth distorted in a cruel smirk. The doctor understood he had been a fool to trust him. He could not understand what the other man was saying, but he could read coldness and anger in his eyes. His last coherent thought was that if he had lost Holmes too, then he was ready to die without fighting because he did not have any more reasons to live. Darkness welcomed his troubled mind and his body went completely limp in Holmes' arms.

* * *

Holmes watched his best friend losing consciousness and with exquisite care he carried him to the closest room, where a still decent sofa had been placed. He lowered the doctor on it, he made sure he was comfortable then covered him with his own coat.

"I'm sorry, my dear friend. I did it for your own safety." He remained to the doctor's side for some minutes, holding his hands, before going out of the room closing the door with the key. The boys, that were waiting for him, listened carefully to his instructions and quickly disappeared. Holmes himself left the palace in the middle of the night. Everything was going as planned for now.

**To be continued in chapter 5...**

**I am sorry if I make you wait so much and I bet this short chapter will not give you the answers to the mystery… I hope you like it, anyway!**

**I'd like to thank those amazing people who wrote a comment, I love all of yours reviews! **


	5. Explanations

**The devil inside (chapter 5)**

Watson did loose conception of time. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings and of the people entering and going out of his room. Sometimes someone came close enough to touch him: in his drugged state he felt a cool hand of his forehead; those times he tried desperately to open his eyes, to move his unresponsive weak body, to demonstrate to the person with him at the moment he was still alive, but never succeeded in his purpose. It seemed as his eyelids were glued together. What disturbed him most was the fact that he couldn't think straight, he wasn't even sure if he was dreaming or leaving reality. To him, it could have been days or months since he left Baker Street with Holmes; Holmes was his constant thought. He actually called his name many times in his delirium. He felt like Alice in Wonderland, when she was falling in the hole of the white rabbit: he was seeing places and people but they were not real. Every time he was certain he had escaped his dreams, he awoke in another nightmare.

* * *

At some point of his limbo, he realized he could open his eyes without much effort; the dim light of the room hurt his eyes and it took him a while to be able to keep them open. The room he was in was very familiar and he knew perfectly well the place: it was Holmes' bedroom. There was an empty chair on the left side of the bed. The drug the doctor had been given had not completely left his system so he was not anxious or scared about the situation, he was just curious to know where his friend was and how did he himself came back to Holmes' apartment, because he did not remember to be moved from the abandoned palace to the detective's place and it was very far from Baker Street. He decided it was time to get up and carefully got on his feet, removing the blankets that had been piled up on him, half expecting to not being able to, but he did. He felt just a little dizzy and light headed and rested for a minute in the empty chair near the bed; it was still hot, it was clear that someone was sitting near him recently. The doctor reached for the door and prayed it was open: it was. Holding his breath, he turned the door-knob and made his entering in the sitting room.

Holmes was sitting in his favorite armchair, smoking. When he saw him, he greeted him with a warm smile and gently guided him to the other armchair. Watson couldn't speak; he was shocked to see that the world was still working alright and everything seemed at his place; he wasn't sure to be awake for real. He feared if he had spoken the dream would had disappeared, and he didn't want it to end: being there, in his old place, gave him a sense of peace and security. If he was dead, he wished to be in Heaven. He wouldn't care. Because now he was home, again!

"Watson, how do you feel?"

Startled by the question, he did not know what to say. He stared silently at his friend, deciding if he was real or not.

"You must be pretty confused, old boy, and I guess it's my fault. I had to drug you, for your own safety!" Holmes paused, taking time for the next revelation. "More than once, I'm afraid! You will feel disconnected for a while, but you will be alright in a few days."

If Watson should had been more alert, he would have reacted badly at his friend's words; but he was still weak (because of the drug still in his body) and only nodded.

"I don't remember coming back here"

"Of course not, you were sound asleep!"

"Why did you drug me, Holmes?"

"It's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it now?"

"I want to know what happened to me. I don't even know if I can trust you, after all!"

"That's understandable, from your point of view. But I assure you, my dear friend, I have always been loyal to you. So, let's start from the beginning… When you came to me, the first time, I already knew about Mary. But I could not tell you."

Watson casted Holmes a disbelieving glance.

"Now, Watson, don't be so surprised! You honestly thought that I would had disappeared from your life, as Mary wished? Of course not. She almost fainted when she saw me in your sitting room. But you have to understand: if I was dead, she was safe. And so were you."

The poor doctor was completely lost and he was looking at the detective with a concerned expression.

"I know it's probably difficult for you to understand, so let me explain better" Holmes continued "I made some research about Mary's family and found out that she had a step-brother, older than her, son of the first husband of Mary's mother. She did not know about him, because he lived with his father's sister (according to the man's last wishes) and the woman closed every relationship with the child's mother, whom she considered guilty for her second marriage with Mary's father. Later, he came back to London. I'm pretty sure that, when you first met Mary and you fell in love with her, she was sincere in her feelings; I'm also sure that she did not know about her step-brother. After our last adventure, she was contacted by this man and she became his puppet. You see, Watson, Mary's brother wanted me dead, because I killed his mentor. When she told him about my resurrection, he decided to punish me by killing you. Of course, they couldn't just shoot you or throw you in a well. So Mary, following her brother's instructions, drugged you every day in your meals. That's why you felt always so bad. However, I was monitoring your house and I had been alerted that you were not seen around for a while and that you were sick. Pretending to be the substitute of your usual doctor, I came to visit you and changed the drug you were given with a harmless bicarbonate. It took you a while to flush the drug out of your system, anyway. I was sure you would had come to me, like you did actually."

"If what you say is true, then why you did not come earlier? I could have died. If they wanted to kill me, how did you know if I was safe?"

"Well, I couldn't know for certain. But my boys were watching your home night and day and I would had known if something out of the ordinary had happened. Besides, Mary's brother was clever enough to understand that if you had died violently, there would had been questions. His plan was to pretend you died because of a strange sickness. Luckily, I was looking after you."

"You still haven't told me his name"

"My poor Watson, I thought it was obvious! But I forgot you're still not yourself. His name is Colonel Sebastian Moran."

Watson's face lost all color. With unsteady voice, he asked: "So, are you saying Moran is my brother-in-law? Oh my God! And Mary, what happened to Mary?"

"Mary and Moran were arrested yesterday. I'm sure they will spent quite some time in prison. I'm sorry, Watson. I know you had… feelings… for Mary."

"You're probably right. This whole story is… unbelievable! I noticed Mary had changed in the last months and especially after your return but I was hoping I was wrong, after all."

"I know it's hard for you. If you want my personal opinion, I am sure Mary still loves you, but you know men like Moran had many ways to persuade a person to do what they want. She is not fully responsible for her actions."

Watson did not reply. He was fighting the urge to cry especially in front of his friend. Holmes sensed his friend discomfort and quietly left the room, leaving the doctor alone. Once the door was closed, the doctor let the tears come and take away the pain for his lost love and for being still alive.

**to be continued in chapter 6 (the end)… **

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	6. Epilogue

**The devil inside (chapter 6) **

Two weeks after Mary's arrest, Watson went to visit her. Physically, he was feeling a lot better, because of Holmes' and Mrs. Hudson attentions. He had also gained some weight and things seemed to return to normality. He wasn't too convinced about this reunion with Mary but Holmes had insisted because, in his opinion, if the doctor wanted to go on with his life he would had to see her one last time before putting the whole story behind his back. He had offered to come with him but Watson refused: this was something he had to do on his own. He didn't know how he would had react seeing his wife after what had happened, he felt quite nervous about it but he knew it was time to face her.

Once inside the prison, he was escorted to a small cell where Mary was busy writing something. She was wearing a dress Watson liked very much, but now it was dirt and outworn. She was surprised to see him.

"John, you came! You're the last person I was expecting to see, after what I did to you!" she murmured sadly. She was sitting near the door of the cell, and made no move to stand up.

"I came because Holmes insisted, Mary. I don't know if I am doing the right thing but he saved my life, again. It's the least I can do for him."

"Are you so displeased by my behavior? You have every right to feel the way you feel, I tried to kill you after all. All I can say to my defense is that I was forced to! I hope you can understand it."

Watson was confused by Mary's attitude. She seemed so fragile and he wished he had only had a bad dream, so to hold her and comfort her. But, instead of following the Colonel's orders, he thought, she could have done different choices. But she did not.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand it! If you were forced by Moran to do what you did, you could have come to Holmes. He would had helped you."

The mention of the detective's name made her change drammatically.

"Oh please, John, stop talking about Holmes! I am tired to listen about how Holmes cares for you and how he saved your life. He had always tried to separate us, since the beginning, don't you remember? Every time we planned to do something, he managed to ruin it! Even our Honey Moon!" She paused and stood up to look at the doctor in his eyes. "There's one thing you still have not understood: I really wanted Holmes to be dead! When Moran found out he was still alive, he forced me to drug you. I tried to persuade him it was not necessary but he didn't change his mind. And he was right, after all! If you were dead, it would had been worse for him than death itself. I thought you had forgot him but after he came to you, that day, you changed. And I knew you would had never be mine completely. I just wanted to be the respectable wife of a doctor, with a decent house, a few children to grow up and a devoted husband. But you had other ideas. Well, John, I don't regret my actions. You know, at the end I hated you just as much as I hate Holmes. I…"

"I've listened enough, Mary!" Watson suddenly interrupted the woman's monologue, feeling he wasn't able to continue. "If you are done, I just wanted you to know I have decided to sell the house. If there is something you need, I'll make sure you have it!"

"I don't care about the house and I don't need anything from you! Now, if you are satisfied, would you please leave me to finish my writing?" she replied in a venomous voice.

Watson felt sick at her words and left the prison. With his surprise, he didn't feel hurt nor sad, he was simply relieved. Holmes was right, he needed this last confrontation with his wife to accept she was not going to be part of his life anymore. He returned to Baker Street but the detective wasn't there. In fact Holmes had been outside the prison all the time, in disguise, to look after his best friend, ready to offer his support if he needed.

**THE END**


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